


Show of Restraint

by Sineala



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Avengers Vol. 1 (1963), Bedside Hand-Holding, Established Relationship, Hurt Steve Rogers, Introspection, M/M, Permanent Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 03:45:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17573255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sineala/pseuds/Sineala
Summary: When the super-soldier serum flowing through Steve's veins unexpectedly begins to fail, Tony immediately creates a replacement version of it for him. It doesn't work out the way Tony hoped.





	Show of Restraint

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kiyaar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiyaar/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Kiyaar!
> 
> This story started life as a remix of [Absentia](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5444753) but I don't really want to call it a remix because it pretty much takes the idea and turns it backwards and inside out. Also, because I am incapable of not anchoring fic to some era of canon, this is set toward the tail end of Avengers v1, after Cap #437 and 438 but probably closer to Cap #443. So consider this an AU of the end of Gruenwald's Cap run -- you know, the arc where Steve gets deserumed -- but with more angst for Tony, and fewer hallucinations of the Statue of Liberty telling Steve to die.

"I don't blame you."

It's the first thing Steve says, when he can speak. He wrenches off the oxygen mask. His hands are trembling with the strain of doing even that much. He shouldn't be speaking at all, but he's always been a stubborn bastard. Apparently that holds true whether he's got the serum or not. But now it won't save him. Now there's nothing left to save him.

And it's all Tony's fault.

"You should," Tony says. He's standing in the doorway and he wants to hide his face, to turn away so Steve can't see him.

He's not sure Steve can see him anymore. Steve's gaze isn't tracking right, when Tony moves. _Limited vision, probably degenerating_ , Hank said; they haven't exactly had time to run a full eye exam. It hasn't been a priority. Steve's body is a set of overlapping priorities now, disaster triage focused on one man. Keep him breathing, keep his heart beating. Then fix everything else.

It's been two days since the procedure.

Tony has never known when to stop. It's his greatest asset and his most miserable, shameful flaw, all rolled up in one. It's what lets him shut himself in his lab with blank blueprints and come out forty-eight hours later with technology that no one else will be able to invent for a decade, and it's what used to drive him to shut himself in his room with two fingers of scotch and not come out until the liquor cabinet is empty. He doesn't pace himself. He doesn't hold back. He can't. He's never learned how. It's all or nothing.

And the serum had been failing, and Steve had gone into cardiac arrest in the middle of the Arizona desert, and Hank had found him and brought him to the mansion, and Tony-- well, there's nothing Tony wouldn't do for Steve, is there?

So Tony gave it his all. He put on a cybernetic helmet and transported himself into Steve's mind to dream with him, to carry him out of his coma and back to consciousness. When Hank reported that the failing serum had ruined Steve's body to such a degree that Steve would never move on his own again, Tony remembered his own recent brush with paralysis and implanted neural receptor biochips beneath Steve's skin, paired with a suit of armor to function as an exoskeleton, a suit that Tony built with his own hands in a feverish day-long engineering binge. He crafted it to fit Steve like a second skin, the way a jeweler would craft an engagement ring. Tony used to have to sublimate through technology, and he hasn't lost the knack yet, even after a year with Steve.

And, just like that, Steve could walk again.

Tony should have stopped there. He should have quit while he was ahead.

But Steve wasn't _better_ and that-- that, of all things, Tony could not abide.

He was going to fix him. He was an engineer, goddammit, and he was going to fix him. _I'm going to give you the serum back_ , Tony told him, and Steve smiled weakly, already fading, smiled bright and open and trusting, and said _if anyone can do it, you can_.

Tony kissed him, then, and said _you just wait_.

Tony's not a doctor. Tony's not even a biologist. Tony needed, at some point in his life, to learn to fucking _step away_.

Steve's breaths are hoarse but so, so soft, barely audible over the beeping of the monitors. He's struggling for air.

What Tony made wasn't the serum. What Tony made has destroyed what was left of Steve's broken body, and he held Steve's hand as he injected him with this goddamn poison, and Steve let him do it.

"I don't blame you," Steve repeats. "T-- To-- T--" He's wheezing too hard to actually finish saying Tony's name. He holds out a hand, or tries to; it mostly twitches against the blanket because he's too exhausted to move it any further, but he is moving it on his own now. The universe has a rotten sense of humor, so Tony actually did fix the paralysis. That's about all he fixed.

Tony wants to run, to leave, to not be here, but he can't, because Steve's asking for him. Steve wants him at his side.

So he sits, and he pulls the chair closer, and he puts his hand over Steve's. Steve doesn't even have the strength to squeeze his hand back. Tony makes himself smile. Steve likes it when he smiles.

"You should put the mask back on, Winghead," Tony says, and there he goes, trying to fix things again. His voice cracks. "You're not going to get enough air like this."

He knows what's coming; he would have known even if Hank hadn't told him. Steve's not going to get better. He's just... falling apart. Everything is breaking. His body is giving out; he can't be carried through on sheer willpower when he finally goes into congestive heart failure. That's probably going to be what gets him. Tony doesn't know how much longer Steve has. Days, maybe. If he's lucky, more than one day. Steve's not very lucky anymore.

More irony from the universe: he always thought it would be _his_ heart.

Tony doesn't know if anyone's told Steve. If Steve knows. He wonders if Steve wants a lie, wants all the confidence Tony no longer has. Asking himself what he would want isn't a useful exercise; he already knows his answer would horrify Steve.

"Love you," Steve pants out. "Just-- wanted to tell you that."

Tony's throat is tight. His eyes swell with tears. "I love you too. But maybe-- maybe you want to breathe now, okay, sweetheart?"

He picks up the mask, but Steve stops him -- or tries to stop him -- with the slightest of nudges. "Glad you're here with me," Steve rasps. "At the end. Never-- never really wanted to die alone."

Steve knows, then. Tony chokes back a sob.

Steve sinks back against the pillow and lets Tony reposition the oxygen mask. For once in his life, Steve is selfish. If he were kinder, he wouldn't ask Tony to stay, to witness this. If he were Tony, he'd ask to be put out of his misery.

"I'll be right here," Tony says, as Steve shuts his eyes and sinks into a state that, terrifyingly, is only sleep. Tony's heart skips a beat anyway. "I'll be right here, okay?"

Steve breathes and breathes and doesn't answer him.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr post](http://sineala.tumblr.com/post/182364650599/fic-show-of-restraint).
> 
> (Yes, Steve does make it through being deserumed in canon. I mean, okay, yeah, he basically sort of dies, but it's comics. He gets better. So if your fluff-loving heart needs reassurance that he gets through this, he gets through this. Probably.)


End file.
